Chapter 15: Belle of the Ball

Dawn walked into the house three days later with a big smile and waving a thick parchment envelope. “I got us in.”

Spike looked up from his book and grinned. “Got us in where, Bit?”

“The gala event at Bellerose Manor. Big swanky ball. Got us invites. Well, four of them anyway, so Xander and I, you and Buffy – we’re going to the ball!”

“Nice work. When is it?”

“Saturday,” she said. She tossed the envelope onto the table and looked at him. “We’ve got to get you a tux.”

There was no doubt. Spike looked a bit frightened. “A tuxedo…”

“Yeap! Suit, bow tie! Isn’t it great?”

“And Xander has one already?”

She nodded, grinning. “From the wedding, hopefully it still fits him.”

“Hope what still fits me, babe?” Xander said as he walked in and dropped a kiss on his wife’s head.

She glanced up and smiled, her face so full of love that even Spike had to see it. His little bit was indeed all grown up. She’d surpassed all of his expectations.

“Apparently, Harris, we’re going to the ball and your wife here is a little concerned you’ve packed on too many pounds to fit into your monkey suit.”

Xander looked down at Dawn, offended. “Me? I’m lean. I’m mean. I’m a muscle machine, honey.”

Dawn shot Spike a warning look and stood up. She wrapped her arms around Xander, noting that it did indeed seem a bit more of a stretch. “I’ve got us in to the ball at Bellerose Manor on Saturday. Let’s go and try on your tux. I just want to make sure it still fits.”

She led him from the room, and Spike could hear Xander protesting the whole way. He folded the page of his book and headed up to tell Buffy the news.

***

“What am I going to wear?” she asked in horror when he showed her the invitation.

“You?” He glanced down at his jeans and t-shirt. “This is pretty much my uniform, love.”

“We can rent you something,” she said.

He looked horrified. “Rent? As in wear something that someone else has worn?” There was enough of the Victorian gentleman in him to be appalled at the thought.

She rolled her eyes. “Your leather coat?”

“That’s different, I won that on the field of battle,” he protested.

“It’s common practice. Guys do it at weddings all the time.”

“Dawn said that Xander bought his for the wedding!” He said, shaking his head.

She paused, thinking back. He was right. “Okay, we’ll see what we can find you. Erica knows clothes and we’ll find you a tailor who won’t ask too many questions.”

Happy that he’d gotten his way, Spike sidled over to her. “And you? You gonna get a little black number? All slinky and sexy?”

“Is that what you’d like? Black? Slinky?” She grinned, sliding her arms around him.

He nodded. “Hmm...and tight.” He ran his hands down her sides. “Silk draping over these curves, so when I look at you, I know exactly what you’re wearing underneath.” He leaned forward and took her earlobe between his teeth and bit. Hard. “Nothing at all.”

“Ouch!” Buffy cried out and bonked him on the head. Then, with a laugh, she grabbed his t-shirt and dragged him down onto the bed.

***

Spike looked down at himself and pulled at the jacket sleeves. A slight band of the crisp white shirt showed bright against the cuffs of the black suit. He adjusted the bow tie and ran a hand over his hair . It wasn’t jeans and a leather coat, but he thought he looked damn good. He ran his hand over his hair, smoothing the curls and he grinned.

She was going to love it.

Hearing the door open he turned, expecting Buffy, but spotting Sam instead.

“Hey, Kansas, what’s up?”

She stared, pursing her lips and whistling. “Wow. Spike, you clean up all shiny and new like a penny.”

He smirked, strutting over to her, turning to the right and the left, letting her check his suit out. “Just a penny? I’d hoped I’d be worth more than that.”

“Just a cliché,” she said. “I came up to see if you needed help with the bow tie. Xander is screaming bloody murder and Dawn is about to strangle him. Buffy is busy, so I figured I’d see if you needed help.”

“How does it look?” He tweaked the bow tie. “I figured it out with a bit of trial and error.”

Stepping up she reached out and straightened it. “It’s perfect,” she whispered, fighting past the lump in her throat.

He looked down at her in concern. “You okay?”

When her eyes filled Spike stepped back in horror. He’d faced down demons from hell, the First, a Hellmouth and an apocalypse or two. But this? A girl in tears?

The worst of the lot!

He took her by the shoulders. “Sammy? Pet? What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

“No!” Not able to help herself, she leaned into him and breathed in deeply. He smelled wonderful, something spicy and woodsy mixed in with his usual elixir of citrus and rose and ash. She sank into his arms, and although he was as hard as marble and she could feel his chest rise and fall as he breathed, there was no heart beat against her breast.

“Sam?” he asked again, he stood back and looked at her. He loosened his neck and shoulders, trying to relieve the tension. The entire situation was making him feel uncomfortable.

“I can’t stop thinking about you,” she said, closing her eyes, fighting back the tears. She let go of him, pushing her dreadlocks back over her shoulders. “I dream about you, when I’m sleeping and every freaking free moment of the day, I think of you.” She opened her eyes and stared, their blue depths reflecting oceans of tears and agony. “I’m not supposed to. You’re a vampire for freaking god’s sake! I should hate you! It’s in my nature to despise you, not care about you like this. And it’s tearing me apart!”

Now Spike was really horrified. “Sam,” he said helplessly. “I-I don’t know what to say.”

“There is nothing to say,” she whispered, shaking her head. “I know you love Buffy. I know you will always love her. You died for her. You’ll never be able to top that - to do that for another woman. And it kills me that I’ll never have what she has.” She closed her eyes and dipped her head. “I love her too, that’s what makes this so hard. I love her; I worship the ground she walks on. And I want what she has. It isn’t enough that I have the power that she shared with me. But I want you too and I know I can never, ever have you and it’s killing me.”

In that moment, Spike felt her pain; he knew what that felt like, to love in vain.

“Oh, Sam,” he whispered, his heart going out to her. She was so young. Not much older than Buffy was when he’d fallen in love with her. Sam was too young to be hurting this way. Was it just the way of a slayer? That they would love unwisely? That they would have their hearts broken, over and over again to harden them? He drew her into his arms. “Shhh....” he whispered, rubbing her back as she sobbed.

“I was downstairs and everyone’s so happy, everyone’s helping get her ready for the ball. It’s like she’s freaking Cinderella and she looks so gorgeous and I know that as soon as you see her, you’ll be lost again and I’ll see that look in your eyes, the look that screams that you would die for her a hundred times if it meant that she’d love you, and I want to be her!” Sam sobbed softly. With every word, Spike felt a jab in that spot where the ghost of his heart beat its phantom beat. He felt helpless. “And I knew you were up here and just for a moment, before you see her, before you fall in love with her all over again, I wanted to pretend that I meant something to you.”

She sounded like a child, like a little girl.

She was a slayer. She’d killed demons, fought with her bare hands for her own life.

But in some ways, she was still a child.

Spike stepped back and tilted her chin up and met her eyes. “Sam,” he said gently. He leaned forward and pressed a soft, chaste kiss on her lips. “Shhh.”

Her eyes widened, her lashes clumped together with her tears.

Spike tore at his bow tie and let the ends fall to either side of his neck. “Help me tie this,” he said softly.

She blinked, the last of her tears falling. With a shuddering breath and shaking hands, she reached out and took the ends of the tie. “I used to do my daddy’s tie each year for the Christmas ball,” she said, her voice husky and low.

“What happened to him?”

She paused, concentrating on the tie. “He’s still alive; he’s a doctor in Kansas.”

“How did you end up living on the streets?”

“When the change came, I went out of control, and he didn’t know what to do with me. I broke some laws, got put into juvie and ran away. That’s when Giles found me.”

“Have you been in touch with you family since then?”

She nodded. “Giles made me. We went to visit them and Giles sat them down and explained everything, gave them the proof they needed and all was well.” She tugged on the tie and then stepped back. “Looks good.”

“Thanks, Sam,” he said softly.

“I don’t want to feel this way.” She looked at him and shook her head.

“I know how that feels.”

“Does it go away?”

His love for Buffy had never faded, never gone away. Looking down, he ran a hand over his face. How could he tell this girl that? Look how long it had taken him and Buffy to get where they were! Look how much she’d tried to find love, to be in a normal relationship. Maybe slayers were never meant to have that. Maybe, as heroes, they were supposed to walk alone. And as he looked at Sam, he saw that she suspected this would be the case.

He pulled her into his arms, and even though, if anyone were to ever ask Spike if he believed in God, or if he prayed, he’d probably say no, Spike prayed for her in that moment. He prayed that his little Kansas farm girl would meet the man of her soul and dreams, and when he did walk into her life, she would know it, and she would be blessed.

Staring down at her as he pulled away, Spike ran his finger across her bottom lip. He thought of what Buffy had wished for. “You’re a beautiful, strong, powerful slayer. And someday, when you’re ready, you will find someone you love with your whole heart and who loves you like that in return.” He leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to her lips.

She stepped back, letting her arms fall to her sides and then with one last look at him, she turned and ran.

Spike sighed, what a fucking mess.

Turning away, he ran his hands over his hair, fixing what her hands had mussed. He wiped his mouth, making sure there were no signs of gloss or lipstick. Feeling the slight guilt that suddenly trembled inside his soul, he cursed that soul that gave him his conscience. Then he grabbed his wool overcoat and headed downstairs.

Their voices carried up to him. The girls were laughing, Buffy’s husky chuckle verging on a giggle, a sound he hadn’t heard in years. Probably not since the day that Red had cast the spell and he and Buffy had fallen under it, thinking they were in love and getting married. She sounded giddy. Young and very un-slayer-like.

He rounded the corner and stepped into the front living room, where they gathered to watch TV and play cards; Dawn called it the family room. Standing there in the doorway, looking at his “family”, Spike could understand why.

“Wow!” Chantal whistled as she caught sight of him. “Spike, magnifique!”

All eyes turned to him, but he only had eyes for his slayer. Everything but Buffy was forgotten, just as Sam had predicted.

She shown in a gown of midnight blue trimmed in silver beads. The gown clung to her from the tiny jewel like straps to the glittering hemline that skimmed her ankles. She clutched a silver beaded bag in her hand and her silver high heels gave her a few extra inches. Smiling, she turned and his mouth went dry. Her hair was piled up, leaving her long, lean, powerful back bared to the waist.

“You look gorgeous,” he said, walking to her and pulling her into his arms for a searing kiss.

Xander cleared his throat and rolled his eyes more out of habit than anything else and Erica cheered, while Giles wiped his glasses and muttered something unintelligible beneath his breath.

When Buffy and Spike came up for air, she smiled. “I take it you approve.”

“Wholeheartedly,” he murmured.

“You look very handsome,” she said, running her hand over the lapel of his jacket. “You clean up nicely.”

“That’s what Sammy said,” he blurted out without thinking.

Buffy’s eyes darkened. “Sam? When did you see her? Where is she?”

Spike looked towards the door and hall on a pretense of looking away from her. “She helped me with my tie. I thought she was behind me, but she must have stopped in the bathroom or maybe she’s in the kitchen.” He turned back and pressed a kiss to Buffy’s lips. “But she mentioned that I cleaned up nicely. I believe she compared me to her father.” Sort of, he told himself.

Quickly, he turned to Dawn and smiled. “You look lovely, Bit.” She smiled, modeling her black silk gown.

Xander gazed at her proudly and took her hand.

Buffy set aside her misgivings, reminding herself that when Spike had walked in and seen her, there had been no one else on his mind. “Okay, do we have everything?” she asked, checking her clutch for the invitations.

“Everything,” Xander called out, patting his pockets out of habit, looking for a weapon. Stakes were strategically hidden in Spike and Xander’s overcoats, but female evening wear wasn’t built to holster stakes and swords. So in addition to Xander and Spike’s hidden cache, each of them carried a small protection talisman that Willow had prepared, and Buffy had a tiny sachet of herbs in her purse that would work at subduing the genie if they were lucky enough to find her.

“Alright then,” Dawn said brightly. “We’re off to the ball!”

***

Spike looked around the glittering ballroom and scoffed. “Old money indeed,” he murmured to Xander.

Xander glanced at the gilt mirrors and down at the tiny French Louis Quatorze chair he was fearfully perched on. “It all looks pretty old to me,” he said. “And rickety.”

“It’ll hold your arse, it’s been holding the arses of rich gits for hundreds of years.” Spike said with a smirk.

“I’ve gained weight recently,” Xander said mournfully.

Spike laughed. “Come and work out with me in the training room. A few rounds with me and the slayers every day and you’ll be trim in no time.” He glanced over the ballroom at their hostess. “I’ll put you up against Sam and Erica. Between the strength and the speed, you’ll drop fifteen pounds in a week.”

“Speaking of Sam,” Xander said.

Spike shot him a quick look. “What about her?”

“Come on, Spike, you’ve got to have noticed that the girl worships the ground you walk on.”

Spike shifted and looked back over the crowd. A moment ago he’d been counting the minutes to when Buffy returned from her short little recon mission to the bathroom. Now he was hoping she’d been slowed down staking a few vamps on her way.

“Yeah, it’s crossed my mind,” he said casually.

“You should talk to her,” Xander said softly. “Let her down easy like.”

Spike sighed. He wasn’t used to these man to man talks, but Harris had brought it up and frankly, he had no one else to talk to about it. “I did,” he said. He quickly filled Xander in on the earlier conversation, leaving out that last little chaste kiss. “So hopefully I’ve set her straight. She’s a bright girl, she’ll get over it.”

Xander stood up, spotting Dawn and Buffy moving towards them. He slapped Spike on the shoulder. “It’s too bad Angel’s not around,” he said, causing Spike to stiffen in shock. “If she’s got a thing for en-souled vampires we could have fixed them up!”

Buffy slipped her hand into his and kissed his cheek. “Whatcha two talking about?”

“Louis Quatorze,” Spike said quickly.

“Soccer,” Xander said.

Spike closed his eyes as both women looked at them in suspicion.

“Nothing,” Spike said, kissing Buffy softly on the lips. “Did you find anything?”

She shook her head. “No, but there were two women in the bathroom talking about you.”

His eyebrows shot up as Dawn laughed. “Yeah, Spike, apparently you’re the best looking man here this evening.”

He puffed up, standing a bit taller, and his smile widened cockily. “Is that right? Well, smart women they are!” He glanced around. “Where are they? Perhaps I’ll go and ask them to dance.”

Buffy laughed, dragging him towards the dance floor. “The only woman you’re dancing with is me.”

He slipped one arm around her waist and took her hand in his, pulling her close, as they waltzed around the ballroom floor. Although he hadn’t waltzed in years, his body knew the moves and he glided as if he’d been dancing for centuries. If he closed his eyes, he could pretend that it was over a hundred years ago, and he was still William and the woman in his arms was Cecily.

“You’re far away,” Buffy whispered, looking up at him.

He smiled and stared down at her. “Just remembering the last time I’d waltzed. Eighteen-eighty I believe.”

“As William.”

He nodded. “Yeah.” He spun her around, and they glided around the room. “And here I am, in 2014, a vampire dancing with a slayer in a mansion called Bellerose.”

“Are you happy?” she asked.

When he looked down, he could see the concern on her face. “I wouldn’t trade this for anything,” he said. He pressed a kiss to her lips and pulled her closer, closer than any waltz in his time would have allowed. But Spike was not living in the past, he’d more than embraced his present. “Not for the world. Not for all the bleeding Tetley’s in all the pubs in the known universe.”

Buffy laughed, closed her eyes, and lost herself in the dance.

***

An hour later, they snuck into their hostess’s private quarters.

“If we’re caught,” Spike said, looking at the lavish king size four poster bed. “We’ll pretend we were looking for a place to shag.”

“As if anyone would believe that.”

“I’ll make them believe it,” he replied with a leer as he pawed through the nightstand.

Nothing.

He turned his attention to the closet.

Buffy walked into a small dressing room and stopped. “Spike,” she whispered.

“What?” He stepped up behind her and stopped.

There it was, proudly displayed on Bianca’s dressing table, one beautiful lamp among a glittering array of gorgeous perfume bottles.

“It can’t be this bleeding easy,” he muttered.

“She’s a woman,” Buffy said, glancing around her surroundings. “A vain and very, very confident woman. Why would she even think to hide it? This place is a fortress and she doesn’t realize that someone was on to her anyway, so why hide it?”

“Don’t know, but it just seems too easy.” He walked past her and reached for the lamp.

“No!” Buffy whispered, grabbing him.

He looked at her in surprise. “What? I thought we were here to take it?”

“We are you idiot! But I have to put a spell on it first. Otherwise, if we touch it, we might call out the genie and then we’ll be the ones to have to deal with it.”

“I don’t know, a female genie to fulfill my every wish...not a bad idea that is.”

Buffy glared at him. “You have a female genie fulfilling your every wish. ME!” She reached into her purse and grabbed the packet of herbs Willow had given her. “Now move away from the lamp and let me do my thing.”

“Bossy, bossy,” Spike said. But he smiled. It was grand to have his slayer back in a commanding performance.

Whispering the incantation Willow had her memorize that morning, Buffy shook the herbs over the lamp. She closed her eyes and counted to sixty and then reaching out with a muttered prayer, she touched the lamp. Cold. Safe to pick up.

She turned to Spike. “Okay, we can go now.”

“And where exactly would that be to, I wonder?” Bianca Bellerose said coldly.